In the Nerevarine's Shadow
by Liberaliter
Summary: An unremarkable Dunmer prisoner is being hunted, but he does not know why. Against the backdrop of the Nerevarine's quest across Vvardenfell; assassins, Imperial agents and powerful mages track the prophesised hero, the one known as Jiub.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter I**

The bow of a large vessel appeared on the southern seas, its masts carried the insignia of the East Empire Company. Relen Neleth, a hooded Dark Elf, or Dunmer, stood in a dark alleyway in the port, watching the ship as it neared closer to the docks. The port city of Ebonheart was peaceful this evening, the seas were calm and only the rapturous sounds of a tavern inside the city pierced the otherwise unremarkable night. This was good, thought Relen. No drunken sailors and prying eyes around to make his job difficult. His only concern was of the Imperial patrols. There were two guards which walked the length of the port, another two were stationed near the entrances to the guard towers and the Ebonheart warehouse. Luckily for Relen however, the docks themselves where the ship was to dock were quiet. As many Dunmer had said when the Empire annexed Morrowind, plenty of business was to be made in taking advantage of the sometimes lax Imperial policing standards.

The vessel now was creeping closer to the dock, as it neared Relen noted how large it was. The East Empire Company insignia proudly displayed on the ship gave its status away as a trading vessel, rich pickings for pirates. But Relen was not here for piracy. The name 'Eastern Spirit' was emblazoned on the side of the ship – clearly Imperial in design. Relen could hear the sailors now; he could even make out their Imperial clothing. Stepping back further into the darkness, Relen decided to check through his equipment. He swept back his black cloak to reveal a silver dagger, which for a moment was caught in the glint of the moonlight. The dagger was, to many eyes, unremarkable. But to Relen, it had been passed down to him by his father. Whilst any old silver dagger could be purchased from a smith, Relen's silver dagger had been restored and used by Relen for many years, it was special to him. As well as the dagger, he also had two potions hanging from the inside of his cloak. One, a potion of invisibility, he often invested into one of these for an assignment; they had proved useful time and time again. The other potion was one of levitation. He had bought this a few months ago and never got round to using it, but he carried it anyway in case the need ever arrived. Both potions had been purchased all the way in Sadrith Mora, from the powerful Telvanni mages. Sheathing his dagger and making sure his potions were fastened; Relen pulled forward his cloak and stepped from the shadows.

The ship was in the process of docking now, the sailors were making some last preparations on deck and the East Empire Company insignia was being lowered. Relen moved swiftly behind some crates and crouched down; he spied three Imperials moving to meet the Eastern Spirit and her sailors. Two of these Imperials were clearly guards, the other a scribe of some sort – no doubt here to register the ship's arrival. The Imperials loved their damn lists, thought Relen. As the Imperial sailors met their Ebonheart counterparts and the gangplank was lowered, Relen seized his opportunity. Standing from the crates, he ran to the edge of the dock, the bow of the Eastern Spirit was directly in front of him. As he neared the edge he leapt, managing to grasp the sides of the ship instead of plunging into the water. He pulled himself up; the Imperials were on the shore now, unaware of Relen's presence on the ship. He crouched down low as to avoid being sighted, and then made his away across the deck to the rear of the ship, to the captain's quarters.

Once inside, he was in a short corridor. Two rooms faced him, one behind a large and sturdy ornate door; he guessed that this was the captain's room. The other had no door and opened out into a living area, where three Imperial sailors were sat, eating meat and drinking some fancy Imperial liquor. Relen made his way to the large door on his left, unsheathing his dagger as he did so. He imagined the captain sat at his desk, filling out reports. He imagined the look on his face as he saw an assassin burst through, blade in hand. The captain would be helpless, just another one of many that Relen had killed in his line of work. Relen had long decided that it was best for him not to know whether his targets deserved their fate or not.

Without anymore pause, Relen raised his weapon and opened the door, his eyes scanning the room in an instant as he stepped in. But there was no need, the room was empty. Relen, puzzled, approached the desk. Parchments were neatly stacked and a quill and jar of ink were freshly sat next to them. Then Relen noticed that all was silent, he could no longer hear the sailors in the other room. He had realised his mistake just in time to turn and see the three sailors enter, their cutlasses drawn. Relen held his dagger out and readied himself for an escape; he had after all survived worse. The sailors closed in further, circling Relen, who was by this point pushed nearly against the window itself. Then another Imperial entered - a female. She was dressed in fancy clothes, it was clear she wasn't one to get her hands dirty with the rest of the sailors. It was in fact Relen's target, the captain.

"Found him Captain!" one of the sailors yelled, "He came in just when you said he would."

The female captain walked closer towards Relen, the sailors flanked her.

"Good work men, Ralsted can you go and fetch the guards, they will be anxious to know whether our plan worked or not," she said in a soft, commanding voice. The sailor named Ralsted nodded and left the room, leaving the captain and Relen alone with the two remaining crewmen.

"What plan?" Relen asked simply.

The captain chuckled, clearly enjoying her success.

"I think you forget Dark Elf,"

"Dunmer" Relen snarled.

"I think you forget, _Dark Elf_, that Morrowind and this ash covered rock you call Vvardenfell belong to the Empire now. The Empire has customs, tradition and, most importantly, laws. As such we don't take kindly to petty and backwards concepts such as assassin guilds."

Relen spat at the shoes of the captain, she bared her teeth in anger back.

"And I think you forget, _Outlander_, that you are invaders in our homeland, we owe you nothing," Relen replied coldly.

"No matter," the captain said, "Our informant was most reliable. If we continue at this rate there will be no money in the assassin business at all in Morrowind."

"Informant?" asked Relen, puzzled.

"The man who hired you for this job to kill me? A decoy. As for myself I am no ship captain, nor are these men ordinary Company sailors. We are guards and agents of the Imperial Legion. It works out nicely for us this way, no one gets hurt. Except the assassins we hang afterwards," the Imperial woman said, grinning with smugness again as she finished.

Relen said no more, he knew the Imperial's words were of truth. He had been set up, they knew he was coming and they weren't even targets. But that didn't mean he was going to come quietly. He heard the Imperial guards from the dock earlier enter the corridor outside, he had no time left. In a flash he turned, then dived out the window with all his might. As he fell, he brought the potion of levitation to his lips, the liquid fell into his mouth, and he was upside down in the air now.

"I want all men watching the water, just to make sure the Slaughterfish get him," he heard the woman say. Then Relen felt a tingling sensation, as if all his organs were being gently tugged out of his body. As he neared the water he began to wonder whether he had been conned by the Telvanni mages, but no splash came. He looked around and found that he was indeed levitating about a foot above the water, on his back. He quickly found his bearings and moved towards the shore. He stumbled at first, but soon he was floating gently along at a surprisingly quick pace. Eventually he reached the shore just outside of the town of Ebonheart. Looking back at the docks as wiped shards of glass off of his cloak he saw several guards running and searching frantically. Relen knew that they had seen him escape, so it was only a matter of time before they were after him once more.

Relen paused for a moment, to contemplate what had happened. His deep red Dunmer eyes closed for a few seconds as he thought things through. He had indeed been set up, the whole assassination contract was a sting operation designed to catch him. The man who had offered the contract was but an actor, probably himself an Imperial agent. Relen knew he wouldn't be getting paid, but it was more than that. He had carried out several assassinations before for various contracts. Dunmer, Imperial and Altmer – even an Argonian had hired him before. Never had he failed, and never had he been set up. Relen sighed and headed back towards town, he would find some dark corner to slip into to avoid the guards once he was there. Relen also wondered at why the Imperial occupiers were now so keen to stamp down on contracted killing, when they had been indifferent at best beforehand. He guessed it was all just part of the Imperial policy of assimilation. Destroy the proud Dunmer culture and flood Morrowind with more damn Imperials.

Assassination as a business in Morrowind had flourished for centuries. An organisation known as the Morag Tong had operated for as long as anyone could remember. They trained assassins and received contracts, what's more were that the Morag Tong's operations were completely sanctioned by the Tribunal and the Great Houses which ruled Morrowind. A guard would look the other way when presented with a writ of execution by a Morag Tong member. When the Empire had invaded, attempts were made to suppress the Morag Tong. But this soon proved to be impossible and the Empire soon realised that cultural concessions would have to be given to the Dunmer. In fact, business positively boomed for the Morag Tong in the aftermath of the Empire's invasion, the Great Houses feuded and disputed more than ever. These Houses were after all the biggest clients of the Tong. Political disagreements and disputes between nobles were settled in the traditional Dunmer way – assassination and subterfuge. Relen wondered whether the Empire was also cracking down on the Morag Tong, as they were with independent assassins such as him. But no matter, the female Imperial agent, or 'captain', had been contracted to die – albeit as nothing more than a ruse. Relen nevertheless decided to follow through his 'instructions'; if that wasn't a kick of sand in the face of the Empire, he had no idea what was. So Relen Neleth, the Dark Elf, a large scar over his left eye, his hair shaggy and unkempt, headed back to Ebonheart to slay an Imperial.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

Lucan Atrius stood at the top of a large hill, looking down on the small fishing village of Seyda Neen. He was an Imperial and had short brown hair, blue eyes and was wearing some modest Imperial style clothing. At his side hung a sheathed sword and under his shirt a dagger was strapped to his chest. With a travel bag slung over his shoulder, he surveyed the town below – and must have looked quite a sight to the residents of Seyda Neen. This was his first sight of Morrowind; he had arrived by boat in Ebonheart two days ago, direct from Leyawiin in Cyrodiil. There, he had met with his contact, received his orders and headed to Seyda Neen, a short while West of Ebonheart.

Seyda Need itself was a small Imperial port village, one of those settlements that the Empire liked to charter in order to 'Westernise' Morrowind. It was also used as a point to process new arrivals to Vvardenfell, the large island which formed a large chunk of Morrowind as a whole. Despite the strong Imperial influence, the village was not primarily inhabited by Imperials. In fact, as Ebonheart was the centre of Imperial bureaucracy on Vvardenfell, Seyda Neen was Lucan's first real sight of a more Dunmer location. The thing that struck him most was the presence of a large, insect-like creature, which he had been told was a Silt Strider – a large, hollowed out but very much alive creature, used as a transportation service across Vvardenfell. It floated, quite eerily, Lucan thought, its long legs dangling helplessly. Trying to ignore the beast, Lucan made his way down the hill and into the village.

He soon met a fellow Imperial, a guard no less, who pointed out the Census and Excise Office for him. Before entering, Lucan checked through the documents given to him by his Superior in Ebonheart. Lucan was here to investigate the disappearance of an Imperial Cutter used as a prison ship. It was an assignment that Lucan had felt was rather mundane for an Agent of the Blades – the spy organisation under the direct control of the Emperor himself. They had sent him straight from Cyrodiil, the heart of the Empire, eastwards to Morrowind – for all intents and purpose a forgotten backwater, one of the least important provinces to the Empire. Nevertheless Lucan had obeyed; there was probably more to the case than was being let on anyway. The ship had stopped at Seyda Neen; by the time it arrived it was carrying two prisoners. One of them was dropped off here, processed in the Census and Excise Offices and released into Vvardenfell. Nothing special there. The second prisoner however was scheduled to be taken straight to Ebonheart. The problem? The ship never arrived. In fact, the ship had been due to arrive a good while ago; the trip from Seyda Neen to Ebonheart could only take two days at most. The documents given to him more often than not only explained the situation, it was up to the discretion of the Blades operative how to carry out the investigation and solve the case. Lucan decided to head on in and talk to the man in charge; it would be good to get some extra details on the ship, its crew and the remaining prisoner.

Lucan greeted Socucius Ergalla, a Breton man who served as the Chief Agent for the Census and Excise Offices. Socucius was elderly and looked quite frail, nevertheless he could see a powerful determination in the man's eyes.

"Yes stranger, can I help you? I am a very busy man and have a great deal of things to be getting on with," Socucius said, rather bluntly. Lucan cleared his throat, before replying,

"I am investigating the disappearance of an Imperial registered ship, which I understand docked here recently. I was hoping you would be able to answer my questions."

Socucius eyed Lucan with a hint of suspicion, hesitating slightly.

"And just who would you be?" he said irritably.

"Lucan Atrius, Agent of the Blades and sent on his Emperors orders. I trust whatever you are busy with won't be interfering with what the Emperor wants me to investigate, now will you be able to answer a few questions," Lucan replied, finding it hard to help the smug look on his face. Socucius Ergalla's eyes widened and there was a brief hint of panic on the old mans face for a moment.

"Well I… yes, of course," he muttered.

"Good. An Imperial prison ship, pennant P405, docked here a short while ago, am I correct? I'm sure you keep records of all visits," Lucan said.

"Yes we do," Socucius said immediately, "That ship was the last thing to have docked here so I don't need to dig through our records to remember it. You say it has disappeared?"

Pleased that he was finally getting somewhere, Lucan relaxed and probed further.

"That is correct. The vessel had been ordered to head straight for Ebonheart after its visit here, but it never reported in. Ships were sent scouting for it but to no avail."

"Well what kind of information do you need?" Socucius asked.

"We already have records of the ships departure. Standard crew number, standard guard number - everything to our knowledge was routine. But if you can tell us specifics of the crew and what happened when the ship stopped here, that would help immensely," Lucan continued.

"The ship arrived with the standard crew as you say, all of whom stayed on the ship. Our guards took the prisoner to shore to be processed. They left immediately after they knew the prisoner released here had been processed successfully."

"So everything went as it usually did with these kinds of things?" Lucan enquired.

"Actually… no… one of the guards on the ship did come ashore. I don't usually think anything of it; sailors often purchase some supplies from the tradehouse here before moving on. But apart from that the guard came straight back and they set off as usual."

"And you had no trouble with the prisoners?"

"Well there was only two of them," Socucius said. "The one we processed was released under some… strange circumstances though for what it's worth."

Lucan's eyes narrowed. He knew the prisoner which Socucius spoke of, he had been explicitly told by his superior to avoid the subject of this prisoner. Lucan had not been told outright, but he had inkling that the prisoner released in Seyda Neen was of importance to the Empire's interests. Instead, Lucan tried to steer Socucius away from that prisoner.

"We are not questioning the processing of that prisoner; everything seems to have gone fine there. What I am worried about is the prisoner who remained on the ship and was to be taken to Ebonheart, was it possible that he could have caused some incident on the ship after it left Seyda Neen?" Lucan asked.

Socucius laughed before replying,

"That wouldn't be possible. The guards of the Census and Excise Offices entered the vessel – as is routine – to check the prisoners before they came ashore. Both of them were near skin and bones, neither capable of causing trouble, especially not one alone."

"I see, thank you for your time Socucius Ergalla, I'll let you get back to whatever… business you deem so very important. Farewell," Lucan finished. He didn't leave Socucius anytime to respond before exiting the Office.

Lucan strolled through the village at a gentle pace, thinking things through. It was clear that his next move should be to speak to the owner of the tradehouse and find out what the guard purchased before returning to the ship. There was probably nothing in it, but it helps to check thought Lucan. He was starting to think that his presence was a bit unnecessary; a Blade tackling a missing ship seemed a tad heavy handed in Lucan's eyes.

As Lucan arrived at the tradehouse, he was greeted by an Altmer – or High Elf – behind the counter. The High Elves were the pale and yellow skinned inhabitants of the Summerset Isles. They stood a good foot taller than most men and were known to hold powerful magical abilities. But this one seemed harmless enough thought Lucan.

"Greetings!" Lucan said cheerfully, extending his hand in politeness. The High Elf appeared to decline, keeping his own hands firmly at his sides, replying,

"Hello Imperial, my name is Arrille, is there anything I can help you with? I have plenty of wares on offer."

The High Elf spoke with a certain aloof arrogance, something that Lucan had found only the High Elves to possess. They were certainly no more welcoming than the few Dark Elves he had seen in Ebonheart at any rate.

"Well Arrille, I am investigating business here and I would like to know if you can remember what you sold to a Guard a few days back," Lucan could get no further before he was interrupted.

"I sell to the guards here almost everyday, I couldn't possibly remember every transaction now could I?" Arrille replied snootily.

"Then perhaps you can tell me what you sold to a particular guard, one who came ashore from a prison ship visiting here," Lucan countered. Arrille's expression changed, it was subtle but Lucan noticed.

"In that case I can help you. I remember that prison ship well, as the prisoner released from it proved to be quite a joy to have around town. As for the guard he purchased a variety of things, although I do not make the habit of disclosing such sensitive information to just anyone," Arrille said. Lucan sighed to himself in near resignation. He had interviewed and interrogated countless people; it was what he had been trained to do. He got the sense that pulling rank here and showing that he was an Agent of the Emperor would not help here, to a fellow man such as Socucius maybe, but not an Altmer. By the same token, he had no intention of physical violence towards Arrille in the middle of a peaceful Imperial charter village. It seemed that Lucan would have to pay for information in this case.

"Would it help if I showed you some identification?" asked Lucan pessimistically.

"That won't be necessary, I can see from how you carry yourself and how you barged into the Excise Office that you are an Imperial Agent in one form or another. I care not which organisation or department you work under," Arrille said coldly.

"Then perhaps a shrewd businessman such as you would not be opposed to a financial donation straight from the Empire's coffers?" Lucan resigned. A grin spread across Arrille's face that seemed to say, now we're talking.

"In which case, I can help you. The guard did in fact purchase some rather odd things… for a guard anyway. For one, several lock picks, a small dagger and some health potions. He had the look of a man who knew he was about to do something… illegal. This is why I thought it so odd for a prison guard," Arrille explained.

"Can you describe the guard to me?" Lucan pressed.

"He was a Redguard, with a small, black beard. He wore standard Imperial armour."

Lucan took note of all this and begrudgingly gave Arrille a portion of his septims. Luckily for Lucan, if one thing could be said about the Blades, it was that they certainly gave each of their agents enough gold for 'expenses'.

Thinking over the evidence as he once again walked through Seyda Neen, a picture was forming. The guard who buys equipment for an escape combined with the perfectly calm weather could rule out the ship sinking or running aground. Despite not knowing anything about the prisoner onboard, Lucan knew that both the prisoner and the guard who came ashore were secretly working together. Now Lucan just had to figure how they made their escape and the ship vanish. After all, they couldn't just kill all the guards and swim for it, or the ship would have been found by now. The only explanation that Lucan could come to was that there were others helping. Pirates perhaps, attacking a prison ship with help from the inside – then taking the ship with them. Yes, thought Lucan. That fit perfectly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

A female Imperial stood in front of a large wooden desk, in front of her, a male Nord sat.

"I may serve the Empire here at Ebonheart's Port, but I only agreed to setting up this trap if you could guarantee me that the assassin was captured," he spoke. The female shifted uncomfortably, replying,

"We have plenty of guards on the streets searching for him, Ebonheart is safe."

"That may be so lass, but now there is an assassin loose, so close to the centre of the Empire's operations in Vvardenfell." The Nord replied gruffly.

"As you know, I am an Agent of the Blades - the direct arm of the Emperor himself. Despite the resources at our disposal, we have limited manpower available here in Vvardenfell, so if you could only agree to send your cities guard out to search the surrounding countryside…" she replied boldly. The Nord sat back in his chair, sighed and drank a long gulp of mead.

"I will not justify sending out my guards to search for this assassin. I gave you your chance by assisting in the trap, but you were the one who failed. A Blade you may be, and I respect you for that, but the Blades have no authority to tell the Empire's bureaucrats what to do."

The female Imperial cursed to herself, her Superior wasn't going to be happy that she had failed. The Blades had been working against the independent assassins working in Morrowind for some time now, even longer they had been covertly damaging the vast Morag Tong – the primary, legalised assassin's guild which operated in Morrowind. She knew that there was maybe a dozen Blades members operating in Vvardenfell, but information was handed out on a need to know basis. As such, the only contact she had with a fellow Blade was with the Grand Spymaster, who coordinated all of the Blades' efforts in Vvardenfell. She walked out of the Nord Harbourmaster's office and found herself once again walking the port of Ebonheart. She weighed up her options: it would prove near impossible to find the escaped assassin by herself. He was a native Dunmer who knew the land, she was a foreigner and, more importantly, working alone. The assassin could have a vast network of allies for all she knew – he also knew how to handle himself judging by the stunt he pulled on the boat. Swearing in her native Cyrodilic once again, she decided to head to Ebonheart's main tavern, the Six Fishes, where she was staying during the duration of her mission.

She found her way to the bar and ordered some Cyrodilic Brandy. The tavern was busy tonight, so she decided to retire to her room and attempt to work out what to tell her Superior. Whether due to lack of concentration or frustration, the Imperial didn't notice that her room's door was unlocked. Nor did she sense the man sneaking up behind her as she placed her drink down on the table.

"Wake up Imperial," growled a deep, ash scarred voice, unmistakably that of a Dunmer. The woman forced her eyes open and instinctively grabbed out at her attacker. She felt a dagger to her throat and soon decided not to resist. The Dunmer brought his face round to look at her and she found herself staring at the assassin she had failed in capturing.

"You know, because of this whole thing being a set up and all, there will be no payment if you kill me as 'instructed'," she reasoned. The Dunmer merely smiled, before replying,

"Oh no, this one isn't for money. This is personal."

"I am an Agent of the Blades, you'll be getting more trouble than you're asking for if you kill me," she retorted.

"I guess if there is one thing I can't fault Imperials for, it is their unrelenting aggression even when a weapon is pushed against their skin," the assassin said.

"We didn't walk into Morrowind and conquer your people by being submissive you know," she replied, managing a smile as she did so. This remark clearly angered the Dunmer, whose eyes flickered for a moment.

"That matters not, the only thing that does is this dagger and your neck, right here, right now," the Imperial woman stayed silent at this.

"I want to know more about the Blades' operations in Morrowind," the Dunmer said.

"I think it's pretty obvious what we get up to."

"Destroying our culture with your damn Imperial towers and soldiers aside, why the sudden attention on the business of assassinations?" the Dunmer scoffed. The woman once again found herself weighing up her options. Either she refused to say anything and got her throat slit, or she answered him as best she could and gave herself a chance to turn the tables on the Dunmer. She decided she wanted to live to see her hometown of Chorrol again, so she replied,

"The Blades, among many operations here in Morrowind, have been working covertly for many years to damage the Morag Tong; all the while our diplomats back in the Imperial City have been trying to persuade the Tribunal to close the Morag Tong down."

"Why target me? I am not Morag Tong," the Dunmer questioned.

"The Empire views independent assassins the same way – something to be destroyed."

"And why use the Blades? Why not have your precious legions hunt us down?" the Dunmer continued.

"Because assassins are tricky ones to catch, as you can attest to, so individual Blades members are used to lure them out." The female replied, intensely aware of the cold steel against her throat. The Dunmer didn't reply immediately, she felt a glimmer of hope that she would be spared.

"Thank you," Relen said simply, as he cut the Agent's throat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

Lucan was walking along a surprisingly scenic road, towards yet another Imperial Charter Town, a place called Pelagiad. Lucan was actually starting to want to see some true Dunmer areas, but he couldn't complain, Pelagiad was bound to stock his favourite Imperial Ales. The village had been built by retired Empire Legionnaires, as they grew in number shops and a tavern sprung up. Finally, a fort was constructed to guard the roads and the nearby Dunmer Plantations of Great House Hlaalu. The good news was that it was only a short half a day walk north from Seyda Neen. Lucan appreciated getting out of that swampy village. The countryside was not like he had imagined Vvardenfell, famed for ash storms dominating mountains. Instead, this region was covered in rolling green hills and various exotic plant lives. Lucan was once again following his order and meeting with his contact, handler and superior, in a tavern in Pelagiad. It was the same man he had met in Ebonheart at the start of his assignment and no doubt a man he would continue to see more of as the case developed.

Lucan strolled into the town, which was built on either side of a single road, the Imperial Fort dominating the nearby skyline. He immediately saw the tavern, called the Halfway Tavern, and headed on in. It was quiet inside, perhaps why his superior had chosen this location for the meeting? Nevertheless, Lucan spotted the man he needed to see and took a seat next to him at a table in the corner of the tavern.

"Good to see you again Lucan," the man said as Lucan joined him at the table.

"Likewise Sir," Lucan replied politely.

"Please, we both know my name – Caius Cosades – so call me Caius."

Lucan nodded, feeling slightly stupid. It was always hard to tell with the various superiors he had served under what they would prefer to be called. At least Caius was honest thought Lucan. Despite this, Lucan was hard pressed to think too highly of Caius Cosades, especially when compared to some of the Grand Spymaster's back in Cyrodill. Caius, in comparison, was shabby, unshaven and his grey hair balding. The old Imperial looked more like a beggar than the most senior member of the Empire's intelligence agency in Vvardenfell. Lucan felt bad for thinking this of his senior, but he had a hard time shaking the preconception.

"So run me through what you've got so far from your little trip to Seyda Neen," said Caius, taking a large drink from his tankard.

Lucan proceeded to inform Caius of his findings, including the suspicious activities of the guard who had come ashore and the possibility of a planned escape – maybe involving outside help from pirates. When he was finished Caius slammed his tankard down at the same time and thought for a moment.

"From the sounds of it, we don't have much solid evidence to act on just yet, aside from this guard which you talk about. Other than that, this just confirms that things went as normal in Seyda Neen," Caius said after a while.

"I do have another theory," Lucan said, probably a little too quietly. Caius looked at him with genuine interest.

"Well, the prisoner who was released to Seyda Neen. I am not a fool; I have guessed that he is important to the Empire," Lucan began. Caius' eyes narrowed and Lucan knew what was coming next.

"As I mentioned previously, our friend released in Seyda Neen is of no relevance. His details are on a need to know basis."

"With all respect Sir… Caius, if we accept that this prisoner was valuable, then it is possible that others knew of his importance. As such, we cannot rule out the possibility that the remaining prisoner – who was due to be taken to Ebonheart – was mistaken for this other, important prisoner," Lucan explained.

"I see where you are going with this and the theory makes sense. I suppose there is little harm in shedding some light for you. This prison trip was indeed important to the Empire. The prisoner released in Seyda Neen is of the utmost importance. He was sent under normal guard as a hope that no one would twig the ship was carrying anyone important. People would just see a regular prison ship, making its rounds. The second prisoner was a decoy. After all, he was being sent to Ebonheart, a far more important location than the swamp of Seyda Neen, don't you agree?"

Lucan suddenly felt exhausted; he wished that he had been told also this before he had started his investigation.

"So if this prisoner aboard a now missing ship is just a decoy, surely the Empire's plan has worked and there is no need for the Blades to investigate?" Lucan asked, puzzled.

"Whilst that is true, things went well and the first prisoner is safe, the fact remains that an Imperial ship is missing, with potentially over a dozen of the Empire's sailors missing as well, or worse – killed. That certainly warrants an investigation on our part. But more importantly, this second prisoner is now also being touted as important to the Empire's cause here in Morrowind," Caius said.

"You can't be serious? You're telling me we had an important prisoner, and by sheer coincidence another very important prisoner aboard the same vessel, one of which you willingly used as a decoy?!" Lucan said, exasperated. Caius looked at Lucan intensely, Lucan immediately realised that he had stepped far across the line. But then Caius laughed and said,

"I didn't think you had it in you boy! Here I was thinking I was dealing with a standard Blade who had never stepped a foot outside Cyrodill, I guess you've got passion in you after all," Caius exclaimed.

Lucan was relieved, he certainly had passion, but he couldn't face telling the Grand Spymaster that this was actually his first time outside of Cyrodill.

"I see our dilemma now. We need that prisoner back because it turns out he is also important after all," Lucan summarised.

"You've hit the nail on the head, so we'd better get started. This case is one of two which is extremely important to the Empire, so I am reassigning all available Blades to help us out," Caius said rapidly.

"What's the other case?" Lucan quipped quickly before Caius could continue.

"More important than this one, so you don't need to know," Caius replied, faster.

Lucan grinned,

"What's our next move then?"

"Well I was going to have you meet with a fellow Blade to work together on this case, but… circumstances have changed," said Caius, Lucan couldn't help but notice the hint of sorrow in his voice has he trailed off.

"What do you mean?" asked Lucan delicately.

"A fellow blade, Vala Celata, was murdered recently whilst on an assignment. Killed by a damn assassin," Caius said regretfully.

Lucan felt a heavy weight pulling at his heart, the death of a fellow Blade was always hard to take, even more so considering that he would now be running the investigation alone once more.

"But all hope is not lost, although our numbers are few here in Vvardenfell, there is one outside of the Blades who is going to be helping you. A mage even!" Caius replied, more cheerfully.

"Well that is some good news," agreed Lucan, "What's his name?"

"Azuk Gro-Durolg," Caius said, a grin on his face.

"But that's an Orc name… you don't mean to say?"

"An Orc Mage," said Caius pre-emptively, "You don't see one of those every day."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

The city of Vivec stood as a testament to Dunmer might, a symbol of national pride. Made up of nine separate cantons, these monolithic structures were artificial islands, dominating the skyline and giving the city an awe inspiring sight to any traveller. Inside each canton was a maze of tunnels, plazas and sewer systems – difficult to navigate and home to a sprawling and diverse population. Travel through the city between cantons was subsequently achieved through gondolas, which navigated the zigzagging canals with great efficiency.

It was in Vivec which Relen Neleth lived, in the St. Delyn Canton – one of the two cantons intended for residency, the other being St. Olms Canton. After killing the Imperial Agent he had known that it would be best for him to lie low for a while. He wasn't exactly rich, but he had enough gold to get by for a while until the heat died down and he could take on another, hopefully more successful, contract.

He had snuck back into the city the night of the failed assassination, with the intention of killing the Agent who had set him up. Thanks to his invisibility potion, he had managed to tail the woman until he had found out that she was staying in the local tavern. There, he had broke into her room and awaited her arrival, slitting her throat after a short interrogation. Not that he had learnt much, not anything that he hadn't already knew anyway. What he did know clearly now, was that his line of work was becoming ever more dangerous. Killing the woman had given him some satisfaction, but it had been short lived. He had killed before, every time for money from a contract. But this time, no money was involved – it was revenge, plain and simple. Yet, strangely enough, he wasn't exactly feeling satisfied with how things had panned out.

He was lying on his bed, thinking about nothing in particular, when there was a loud knock on the door. Relen lived in the Waistworks of St. Delyn Canton, a maze of tunnels and passages deep inside the structure of the Canton itself. As such, there was only one way in and out of his apartment – the front door. Grabbing his silver dagger, he held it behind his back before shouting out,

"Who's there?" after what felt like a few seconds, a voice shouted back.

"I'm seeking an assassin," the voice replied, not answering Relen's question.

"Well there's none here, so go away fetcher," snarled Relen, gripping his dagger.

"I have a very profitable contract available; I was told that Relen Neleth is the best assassin this side of Vvardenfell," the voice came again. Relen swore and opened the door.

"No need to let the whole Canton know, inside – now."

Inside stepped a fellow Dunmer, dressed in brown robes.

"May I take a seat?" he asked.

"Go ahead," said Relen hesitantly.

The Dunmer sat down; Relen joined him, still keeping his dagger close. The apartments of St. Delyn Canton weren't exactly high class living, so the Dunmer had a full view of Relen's tiny abode.

"Nice place," said the Dunmer.

"There will be no small talk in my home, what do you want?" replied Relen sharply.

"I am offering a contract, a rather unique case that can't be performed through the Morag Tong. As such the payment will be far more than anything you have accepted before."

"I hate to tell you this friend, but I am not offering my services at the moment," Relen said.

The Dunmer's expression did not change; he instead took a scroll out of his robe and handed it to Relen. It was the contract, Relen was annoyed that his fellow Dunmer did not listen to him, but he read it anyway. Then his eyes saw the payment.

"You weren't joking," was all he could manage to say.

"I seldom do. Are you interested?" the Dunmer said plainly.

"Yes, what are details?"

"The target is a Dunmer who is currently being held captive by a band of rogue Imperials. They are trying to sell him for a considerable sum, I want you to kill their prisoner before they get a chance to sell him, or otherwise I'll have to spend more time looking for where he will end up," the Dunmer said.

"A Dunmer who has been captured, now he faces assassination… he doesn't sound like he has made many friends," Relen said, still eyeing the payment figure.

"Nor has he made any enemies, it is simply how things have come to be," the Dunmer replied.

"And who are you, do you have any reasons I should know about for wanting this Dunmer dead?" Relen asked.

"My organisation has plenty of reasons, but you would not understand them and nor do you need to know who we are. You are not new to this; I trust you can understand my wish for privacy."

"Of course," Relen replied.

"Then it is settled, bring me his head and I shall pay you. We will meet in the underworks of this Canton when it is done," the Dunmer said, standing up as he did so.

Relen watched the Dunmer leave and closed his front door, so much for some relaxing time off. But the payment was an amount he could not pass up. Going through the contract, he absorbed the details. A Dunmer, name withheld, being held captive by a band of rogue Imperials – and Relen had to kill him before they could sell him off. It sounded simple enough, like many contract before it, but one detail caught Relen's eye. 'The Empire's intelligence service, the Blades, is also tracking your target – move quickly.' This piece of information certainly complicated things for Relen; there was no way he could pull off getting past the captors as well as multiple agents of the Blades. He would need help and for that, it was time he called on an old friend for a favour.

Relen headed to St. Olms Canton, crossing the vast bridge which connected it to his own Canton and avoiding the gaze of passing Ordinator Guards along the way. It had been years since he had been here, but he followed his instincts, taking turns in the Waistworks which had been almost ingrained into his head. After twenty minutes of walking through identical corridors, passing the various inhabitants of St. Olms Canton, he came to an unassuming door. It located well away from the rest of the apartments and the plazas of the Canton, cobwebs seemingly grew across the walls and rats scurried across Relen's path into their dens. Looking behind him, Relen saw the corridor stretch endlessly in front of him, it seemed to defy all physical possibility that this residence could be so hidden, but then again, the occupant was not one who likes being disturbed.

Relen turned back to the door, paused for a second and knocked. In an instant he felt a dull thud against the back of his head and he dropped to his knees. His vision blurred as he felt his head ringing in pain, before he fell unconscious he felt a black sack fall over his face and tighten around his neck. He was definitely at the right place he thought, before succumbing to the blow.

Relen awoke some time later; he wasn't sure how long for certain. He couldn't see anything, he instinctively reached for his eyes before realising that his hands were bound and he had a black sack placed over his head. He struggled with his hands desperately for a few moments, before relaxing in the futility of his situation. Then, a voice,

"It has been a long time since you sought out my home Neleth," the voice was female, speaking in eerie sing song. Relen felt a blade glide gently across his back, before a silhouette appeared in front of him through the black sack.

"The fact that you are here can mean only two things," she said very abruptly, losing any pretence of charm and dropping the playful act.

"One: you are here to seek my help, because Azura curse you should you ever simply wish my pleasant company" The female said nonchalantly.

"And two: You are here to kill me. This, may I add, is a frankly laughable notion," she continued. The blade trailed over Relen's chest lightly for a few seconds, before his hood was ripped off and his kidnapper appeared in full view. She was a Dunmer, deeply beautiful but full of menace. Her black hair was cut short, messy, and her red eyes were large, vibrant. Relen mustered a smile, before saying,

"You must be out of practice Miara," as he lifted his now unbound hands before her eyes." Miara laughed and extended a hand, pulling Relen out of the chair.

"Now I am certain that you of all people are not here to kill me, so why don't you tell me the big news?" she said, sheathing her blade.

Relen proceeded to tell Miara of his ill-fated assassination contract in Ebonheart, before letting her know about the contract offered to him to kill the Dunmer prisoner being kept captive by a band of rogue Imperials. She listened intently as he explained; it was as if it was only yesterday that they had last seen each other. In truth, Relen had not seen Miara for many years. They had practically grown up together, a childhood raised on pick pocketing Imperial soldiers and climbing Fort ramparts, only to be chased down again later. Miara had become an assassin as Relen had, it was a natural path. Before long, and after many years of working together on contracts, the Morag Tong had sought the pair of them out for recruitment. Miara accepted - Relen did not. They soon found their friendship trailing off as their lives took opposing routes. But now Relen needed her help.

"I will help you Relen, if only for old time's sake. We shall split the profits of course once this is all over and, if the opposition we face is as the contract says, then I shall need time to prepare. I trust you know that I have not killed in this manner in quite some time, my tenure with the Morag Tong has long since passed," Miara said after a while. Relen was pleased, relieved even, but his face did not show it.

"Of course, but you are still one of the best around, we shall meet outside the city – near the Silt Strider port – tomorrow morning, pack light however, speed is of the essence," Relen said, standing up to take his leave.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI**

The Odai River cut a decisive path through the bustling Dunmer city of Balmora. Meaning 'Stone Forest' in the Dark Elves native tongue, Balmora was definitely living up to its name, countless houses, shops and manors spread across the valley, all built in rich Hlaalu architecture. The city itself was in fact the District Seat of house Hlaalu, one of the powerful political factions governing Morrowind.

The city sat at the southernmost edge of the West Gash region. As such, it bordered the swamplands of the Bitter Coast, the lush farmlands of the Ascadian Isles and the dry, unforgiving landscape of the Ashlands. Due to this, Balmora had grown to become a thriving hub of trade, as well as playing host to all the major Imperial Guilds, such as the Fighters, Mages and Thieves Guilds. The assassins Guild, the Morag Tong, also had a base here, as well as countless other legal and illegal organisations.

House Hlaalu had sided with the Empire when the invasion came; they saw that it would pay to be on the winning side. This meant that Balmora, despite outward impressions, housed a strong Imperial presence. Fort Moonmoth was even located nearby, allowing the Empire access to an important strategic location.

Nevertheless, Balmora was Lucan Atrius' first sight of a true Dunmer city – he was impressed. Rather than seeing the sights, such as visiting a famous Dunmer temple or paying a visit to the House Hlaalu Manor, Lucan was sat in a cramped corner club in a rather seedy part of the city, sharing a table with a bulky, robed Orc.

Azuk Gro-Durolg was the Orc's name, he stood several feet taller than most other races and his skin was a dark, dirty green. He looked to be quite young, but Azuk had informed Lucan that he was in fact considered a little old by Orc standards. Lucan had done as his Spy Master, Caius Cosades, had advised, and met the Orc here in Balmora. As the pair of them sat drinking cheap Dunmer ale, Lucan wondered how the two of them were to possibly succeed in their task of tracking down the missing Dunmer prisoner.

"Don't get me wrong young Imperial," Azuk suddenly said after what seemed like an age of silence, "I am glad that someone cares about my friend," he continued, pausing to take a long gulp of ale, "but I worry about what your Empire's intentions are with him. As far as I am concerned, he is a friend. Not anyone who deserves to be mixed up in anything like this," Azuk finished, slamming his mug down on the table with his powerful Orc hands, causing several customers on the adjacent table, as well as Lucan, to jump.

"Our only concern is for his safety," Lucan replied.

"This is what worries me, what could my friend Jiub possibly have to do with you Imperials?" Azuk said.

"So that is the missing prisoner, I mean, your friend's name?" Lucan enquired.

"Yes, just Jiub, we met several years ago in Skyrim. I was a mage for hire and he was travelling the lands, he said he was simply looking to explore the beauty of the world. A silly notion of course, but we soon became good friends after I saved his sorry behind from a group of Mountain Trolls."

Lucan's eye flickered, "Mountain Trolls?" he said apprehensively.

The Orc laughed heartily, "Just because I am not a brawn over brains warrior like most of my people, doesn't mean I can't handle five times my better in a fight."

"I guess you're right," said Lucan. He was starting to admire the Orc. He had gone against all the conventions and societal norms of his people to follow a dream of mastering magic, and he had certainly succeeded if his tales were anything to go by. Azuk seemed like a good type of friend to have.

"Anyway," Azuk said, interrupting Lucan's train of thought, "We travelled Skyrim together, fighting, exploring and, at Jiub's insistence, 'admiring the world's beauty'," said Azuk in a faux mocking voice.

"Then we came to Cyrodiil. I wanted to advance my Mage studies to I signed up with the Mages Guild there for a brief time," Azuk explained, clearly moving over his brief tenure at the Mages Guild suspiciously quickly.

"Jiub retired to a secluded house deep in the Cyrodilic forests. We still met regularly, hunting deer at weekends."

Lucan sighed deeply, "And then he was arrested by the Imperials?" He said.

For the first time, Azuk's face hinted at true menace and anger,

"No Imperial, he was taken on false charges. Your Empire dragged him off and shipped him off to Vvardenfell real quick. Far quicker than how they usually get these things done at any rate."

"I am sorry for what happened to Jiub Azuk," Lucan said honestly.

"Well that doesn't matter now. I am angry at them taking him, but all I want to do now is find him," Azuk said.

Lucan proceeded to tell Azuk what he knew, deciding to skip over the bits about Jiub being used as a decoy. He did however say how Jiub was important to the Empire's cause in some way. Azuk was puzzled by this revelation, but knew that Lucan was being truthful when he said that he did not know anymore. Lucan also told of how the ship's crew was also presumed missing and that they needed to be found, when Azuk said,

"Have you considered the possibility that the entire crew planned to kidnap Jiub?" Azuk asked. Lucan was surprised, more so at the fact that the thought had not even crossed his mind. But how could it? It was completely implausible.  
>"That most certainly isn't the case, a whole Imperial crew abandoning the Empire to kidnap your friend? That's highly unlikely," Lucan replied curtly.<p>

"Well all I'm saying is that we have to consider all possibilities. I want Jiub found no matter what," Azuk snarled. Lucan merely nodded and took a sip of ale.

"I have also received more recent news from my commander, both good and bad, Lucan said professionally. Azuk looked up hopefully.

"We now have a vague inclination as to Jiub's location. Imperial Agents found the ship scuttled in the Azura Coast region yesterday. All signs show that survivors, or the kidnappers, left the ship and took Jiub with them, there were no bodies found."

"This is excellent," roared Azuk, "more ale over here," he said, slamming his fist down onto the table, which by now looked close to breaking.

"But tell me, what is the bad news?" he said more seriously.

"There are two assassins who are also looking to find Jiub," Lucan replied grimly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII**

"Where is our target located Relen?" asked Miara as the two Dunmer met each other near Vivec City's Silt Strider Port.

"Azura's' Coast," Relen replied.

"Are those the best directions we get?" She snapped. Relen took a map out of his bag and opened it up, he pointed to a cross on one of the many islands that made up Azura's Coast.

"Here," he said, "The contract says we may also have to do a bit of tracking for ourselves to find the target," Miara nodded in reply.

"We aren't the only ones tracking this target, are we Relen?" Miara asked accusingly.

"No," Relen confessed "Imperials are also after him – Blades no less."

"I thought something like that would be the case, why else would you ask me to help you," Miara replied. But Relen stayed silent,  
>"Come, let's go" She said.<p>

Relen and Miara were to take the Silt Strider eastwards; it would leave them outside the Dunmer city of Molag Mar - a desolate fortress standing against the harsh Ashlands to the north and the isolated Azura's Coast region to the East. The journey took the good part of a day to complete, along the way the pair of companions sat mostly in silence. Miara was uncomfortable, something which surprised her. Relen had been her oldest friend, yet now he barely wanted to look at her. She thought he would be excited by the prospect of adventuring with her again, but he simply sat in silence. The years had hardly been kind to her, they rarely were for assassins, but Relen looked especially worse for wear; he appeared old, tired even.

During the journey she asked more about the contract. She was no fool; it was highly unusual that Relen would ask for her help specifically when he was so used to working alone. She suspected that his confidence had been shaken by the set up in Ebonheart; in truth she hated seeing him this way. Then there was the issue of the Imperial Blades also tracking their target. She did not know what their intentions were; she didn't even know the reasoning behind the person – or group – which had hired Relen to do this job. But that was the way it would always go in this business. Killing for money was, by definition, a shady affair. The presence of the Blades, who Miara knew as an elite spy group at the Emperors beck and call, certainly made things interesting; it was a sure fact that their target was important for whatever reason. Yet, they didn't even know the target's name. All they had to go on was a vague description: a Dunmer prisoner with a shaved head and piercings.

"Do you worry Relen?" asked Miara eventually.

"You already know the answer to that question old friend," Relen replied.

"But why, you… we have faced danger before."

"This feels different; it is not the danger which worries me. I have never thought about questioning the motives of an assassination, but part of me wants to protect this Dunmer prisoner."

"You will go through with it though?" Miara asked, wide eyed.

"Of course I will," Relen snarled.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, Miara sometimes caught Relen looking at her, but he averted his gaze when she noticed. Whatever the emotion was that she caught in her old friend's eyes, she did not know. But she had a strong urge to help Relen. This was natural she supposed. For Miara personally, this was her first contract after leaving the Morag Tong. When she joined it filled her with immense honour, knowing that she was working alongside famed assassins in an age old institution. The killing was legal and sanctioned by the Tribunal – if only tolerated at best by the Imperial invaders. She was never satisfied though, something about having to present a writ of execution put a downer on the fun of things. Nevertheless, it was good to be back to old ways, with an old friend.

The Silt Strider reached its destination of Molag Mar and so the pair disembarked. Molag Mar was a canton, much like the ones which made up Vivec City, except Molag Mar was only one canton, rather than many. It housed a strong Tribunal presence – the religious organisation which governed Morrowind. Their stop here was only brief, Relen wished to purchase supplies – including some more potions – and then they set off once more.

The region they entered now, and the location of their target, was known as 'Azura's Coast'. The region was made up of the entire Eastern coastline of Vvardenfell, home to thousands of tiny islands, sheer cliff faces and vicious storms. The area was also House Telvanni territory, one of the three Great Political Houses which ruled Morrowind and Vvardenfell. The Telvanni were immensely powerful mages and were not as willing to bend to the wishes of the Empire and the Tribunal as House Hlaalu and House Redoran were. They were mostly isolationist, seeing political matters as a petty waste of time. But considering the most powerful ruling Telvanni were said to be hundreds of years old, their indifference to events was understandable.

The pair walked for a good while, traversing narrow paths between mountains and wading through shallow water passes.

"Why did you leave the Morag Tong Miara?" asked Relen quite suddenly, maybe it had been playing on his mind Miara thought.

"The truth is, I didn't like it there." She said honestly.

"You should have come and seen me," Relen said, not giving away any emotion.

"Maybe, but you were busy with your own independent contracts. Plus I didn't want to give you the satisfaction of being right," She said. Relen couldn't help but burst out laughing,

"So we didn't see each other for years because you didn't want me to be right?" He said, grinning. Miara stayed silent, cracking a smile. Eventually both of them were laughing; it was certainly a mood lifter for the two of them.

The landscape seemed to be gradually deteriorating around them. The cliffs became more jagged and the land wasn't so flat. Any sign of civilization was long behind them, the only signs of life where the birds in the sky and the multitude of mudcrabs dotted along the waters edge. This landscape was the perfect place for a band of rogue Imperial sailors who had kidnapped a prisoner hold up. Eventually, the narrow path sloped down towards the waters edge, where a rickety wooden bridge held passage to the next tiny island along. Relen stopped walking and signalled Miara to do the same.

"There are people on the other side," he said.

Miara saw them as well, they weren't moving either.

"They're waiting for us to cross," she said.

"Bandits, or highwaymen no doubt," Relen said, "Load your crossbow – but keep it lowered, stay behind me," Miara nodded in reply and took out her crossbow which had been harnessed to her back.

The pair advanced, slowly and more cautiously. As they descended further down the trail, they got a better view of the people on the other side of the bridge. There was four of them, an Orc stood in the middle. The tallest of the group, he was clad in heavy armour and was clearly in command. He was flanked by two Nords, each almost as tall, equipped with long swords and shields. Finally, at the rear, a man stood in dark blue robes. He could have been an Imperial, but the way he dressed suggested magic, which would mean he was most likely a Breton. None of these four moved or said anything, they simply watched Relen and Miara as the descended the trail.

As they reached the bottom, they came to the bridge. Relen stopped and stared at the group on the other side of the water.

"It's pretty clear they aren't here to offer us a drink," he said, "You stay here; we need to put some distance between us and them. I'll find out what they want."

Miara was silent, Relen turned to her,

"Miara?" he asked anxiously.

"We're assassins Relen; we can't be expected to best four warriors in open combat. We aren't even equipped for it!" she retorted.

"Which will make their defeat all the more humiliating," he replied swiftly.

Relen took a first step onto the bridge, then another until he stood on the wooden planks, the murky water swirling a few feet below him. The group on the other side had not reacted, so Relen took a few more steps. Eventually he stood on the middle of the long, narrow bridge. He threw back his cloak and shouted,

"We seek travel along this path, what say you?"

It was the Orc, who spoke up, grunting,

"You will drop your weapons where you stand and bring us all of your gold, else you must turn back."

"That won't be possible," Relen replied, staring down the Orc who – even at a distance – was frighteningly big.

"Oh and we have no intention of turning back," Relen added.

The Nords began to laugh and the Breton's face lit up with glee,

"In that case, Dunmer, we shall kill you and take your pretty friend with us," the Orc snarled with menace, bringing a large war axe in front of him.

Relen knew he had but seconds, and analyzed the situation. Miara was smart, so she would launch her first bolt at the Orc's armour; it was the only thing that could pierce it. That meant Relen would have time to throw a throwing knife at one of the Nords, who both wore weak leather. By that time the Orc would still be standing and charging towards him, albeit slowed by the bolt hopefully stuck in his chest. From there Relen would have to improvise, because the Orc was moving and Miara had already let off her first bolt.

As suspected the bolt hit the Orc square in the chest, it looked as if it had pierced the armour but it would take more than one to fell and Orc. Relen responded by flinging a knife at the nearest Nord, which found its targets throat and he dropped to the ground. Relen retreated back to Miara, who was busy reloading the crossbow. The Orc was quick, surprisingly so and was almost upon them already. Relen grasped his dagger firmly and stood on the receiving end of the Orc's war axe. He darted to the left just in time and with his hands pushed the Orc's arms off to the right, sending the axe thumping to the ground. Relen had already plunged his dagger into a weak spot between two of the plates of armour, the Orc fell. The second Nord had reached the other side now and was hacking at Miara, who had abandoned the crossbow and was defending with her short sword. The Nord had the reach and Miara was on the defensive, she was being battered and couldn't get an opposing blow in. Relen instinctively lurched towards the Nord's side with his dagger, but he was knocked back by an intensely painful block of freezing ice which seemingly slammed against his side, sending him to the floor. Looking up he saw that the Breton was before him, readying his hands for another spell. Relen reached for another throwing knife but before he could he felt a searing pain across his left arms as a fire ball brushed his side.

Miara meanwhile had been backed against a large rock by the Nord, who was struggling to land a blow due to Miara's defensive skill. As steel clashed against steel, Miara thrust her knee with all her might against the Nord, who staggered backwards, letting his guard down and receiving a sword to the chest for his moment of weakness. She turned only to see Relen on the ground, severely injured by the Breton's spells. She attempted to close the gap and get at him with her blade, but he laughed as he knocked her to the ground with a bolt of an ice spell. She could barely move, with her injuries there was no way she could get close enough to the Breton. Relen too looked to be helpless, his arm was severely burnt and he lay panting on the ground. It appeared the Breton was toying with them.

"Don't let the fact that you killed my companions be of any solace to you before you die" He said as he paced before the two Dunmer, watching for any surprise moves.

"They are easily replaceable, brute strength like that is easy to come by here in Morrowind it seems – a savage land I might add. I bet you thought my Orc friend here was in charge though didn't you?"

"Azura curse you, you n'wah," Miara spat violently.

"I don't know what your business was in this lonely place, but your journey ends here." The Breton said confidently, "Goodbye." With that he raised his hands, one pointed at Relen, the other at Miara, and began to muster up a spell to finish them off.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII**

The swirls of light danced before his eyes, breathing in he winced in anticipation as the colours and shapes formed objects, places and memories. He was in Skyrim, he saw the Throat of the World on its distant peak. The shapes of lights moved again, snapping around in the air. He kept his eyes closed, determined to press deeper. Rugged, snowy mountains formed yet again. The Throat of the World faded out of view this time and the colours sent him hurtling towards the ground. Now he stood, surrounded by trees, no path, no escape. The colours vanished. Jiub opened his eyes.

_Closer_, Jiub thought. He found himself surprisingly content considering his surroundings and the company. He stretched his arms and stood from his crossed legged position on the cold, hard ground.

"Awake now prisoner?" asked the Imperial man standing watch.

"Yes, thank you," replied Jiub politely.

"I told you not to do that... awake dreaming stuff," the Imperial grunted.

"Meditation," corrected Jiub, not missing a beat.

"Yeah, right. Well whatever it is you're doing, don't think I'm not watching you," snarled the Imperial.

Jiub didn't reply, instead he stood up and paced his makeshift cell. He had been arrested in Cyrodiil, taken on charges of blackmail and burglary. Completely fabricated of course. Nevertheless he had found himself thrown into a dank cabin of an Imperial Ship with another prisoner, then taken to Morrowind, his homeland. Jiub never knew what was happening at any step of the way, he had watched his fellow prisoner be released in Seyda Neen, he didn't know whether to expect the same, or whether he was being taken to an Imperial Prison. Instead, he heard a commotion above deck one night. From what he could make out from the corner of his cramped room, there had been a mutiny. The Captain and some other sailors had been killed, then the rest of the crew had commandeered the ship for themselves. A week later and they landed ashore off a forsaken rock in the Eastern and battered reaches of Vvardenfell.

"You won't be around here much longer anyway, Dark Elf," the Imperial again piped up.

"Oh?" Jiub said, turning his head in vague curiosity.

"Nope, boss reckons we've got a buyer interested in you. You're fetching a good deal of coin as well, the gods know why."

"So your slavers?" Jiub asked.

The Imperial laughed,

"We don't keep slaves back in Cyrodiil, unlike you savages," he replied curtly.

"So you're not slavers, nor are you Imperial Legionnaires, not anymore anyway," pondered Jiub.

The Imperial guard grunted,

"Eh, I guess not. The coin was too much to pass up, forget the Empire. Besides, you saw what happened to the Captain and the other men for not going along with this plan, I plan on living a little longer than that," he said.

Jiub sat back down and reclined against the cage. Slowly, he was piecing together his captors plans, through snippets of information revealed by absent minded guards with loose tongues and his own cunning of course.

"So your boss... he must know something big to abandon his position in the Legion and sell me for gold."

The Guard laughed.

"Maybe he does, either way he got some information, told a few of us about the plan and here we are."

With that the Guard walked off, leaving Jiub once again alone in his cell. He was beginning to get used to his life of imprisonment, but knowing that he was so closed to walking free in his native lands of Morrowind once more... the thought of that was too much to bear. Before all of this, he had lived in Cyrodiil. But there was a fire inside him, and it yearned for the dusty lands of the Dunmer once more.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter IX**

Relen Neleth was woken violently in a fit of searing pain and opened his mouth to scream out in agony. He was in an unknown room, strapped to a table by leather fastenings. Stood above him, an elderly, bearded man was casting some spell upon his, now quite burnt arm. Although the Dunmer possessed an innate ancestral power which allowed them to resist much of the effects of fire, the mage had been adept enough an opponent to cause serious damage.

"Stop! What are you doing?" Relen cried out to the stranger, struggling against his binds as he did so.

"Relax Elf, bare the pain now and your wounds will heal quicker," the old man replied gruffly, barely batting an eyelid as he carried on casting his spell, which was emitting a cooling blue energy from his hands, to Relen's burnt armed.

"Where is my companion?" Relen questioned, accepting that he wouldn't be escaping his position anytime soon.

"She is in the next room, unconscious," came the reply.

"If you've hurt her, I'll make you regret travelling to these shores outlander," Relen threatened. The old man laughed,

"You're in no place to make threats, and if you do it again I might just throw you out to the rest of that bandit crew you ran into."

Relen grunted in vague response and closed his eyes, the pain was strong and he was too tired to argue anymore.

He must have drifted back into unconsciousness at some point, because he awoke once again to a now empty room, with only a small candle on an end table providing a flicker of light, and life. He moved his arms and legs and felt with no surprise that he was still strapped to the table. He looked down at his arm and saw that there were no burn marks present, the wound caused by the mage's fireball had been healed, presumably by the strange old man. Relen's throat was dry, even for a Dunmer, and he couldn't help but cough. He now wondered how long it had been since he had drunk anything, or even how long he had been in this unfamiliar place. Before he time to contemplated how he was still alive after facing certain death, the door opened and the old man came walking in. Now rested, relatively speaking, Relen could catch a glimpse of the man in the flickering candlelight. He was old, with a grey beard and battered face. He wore plain robes and was, for all appearances, completely unremarkable.

"I see you have awoken once more," the man said, taking a seat beside where Relen was strapped.

"You'll be pleased to know that your friend is awake," he continued, before proceeding to pour himself a tankard of ale.

"She was a lot more cooperative than you were," he laughed, now dipping some stale old bread into his drink.

"What's that supposed to mean," Relen said, but before the old man could answer, the door opened again, and Miara entered. She looked slightly worse for wear than before they had set out, but otherwise very much alive.

"Relen! I thought I heard your voice. Rumaril, cut him loose!" she asked.

"I heard what you said before when I was healing your arm Elf, if you try anything I'll march you right over to the bandit's camp and let them do what they want with you. I expect they'll be keen to get their hands on the pair that left four of their own dead by the bridge," the man, apparently known as Rumaril, threatened once more, as he rose to set Relen free.

"Four?" Miara reminded, "We only got three of them."

"Ah yes, I suppose I can take credit for saving you from the mage. Tricky one he was, that Breton can certainly cast a spell, I'll give him that. Still, nothing I can't handle." Rumaril replied knowingly, undoing the straps that held Relen down.

Relen lifted his arms and stretched, he was tired, sore and extremely thirsty, he sat up was soon on his feet.

"Are you ok Miara?" he asked.

Miara brushed some dirt off of Relen's face,

"I'm fine, thanks to Rumaril anyway."

"So, Rumaril is your name stranger?" Relen asked.

"Aye it is. Please, take a seat you two," he grunted, gesturing to the spare seats around the table,

"And help yourself to the water and bread, afraid the ale's mine though."

The pair did so, and embraced the food and drink, but Relen's primary concern was receiving some answers from this mysterious old man. Rumaril looked as if he sensed the question coming, and pre-empted Relen.

"I suppose you're wondering who I am and how I saved you. Well, your friend here already knows the bare details, since she woke up before you and was a lot less... angry, so I suppose I'll fill you both in."

Relen, cracked a fake smile and replied,

"Please do."

Rumaril set about explaining how he had killed the mage by the bridge just as he was prepared to strike down Relen and Miara, apparently he had been watching the whole fight and decided to take pity on the two travellers, destined to meet their end at the hands of bandits. Rumaril had also used a spell to drain both Relen and Miara's stamina, essentially incapacitating them and bringing them here, to a desolate shack in the most forgotten part of Vvardenfell, which he had made his solitary home.

"So why the restraints?" Relen asked bluntly, being careful not to give thanks to this unexpected ally.

"All I saw was those bandits set about attacking you, as they do, I had no idea who you two were. For all I knew you could have been a dangerous pair yourself. And from the way you handled yourselves for most of that fight, I was right. So yes, I saved you, but don't think I'm about to let you two get the drop on me," Rumaril said angrily, dunking some more old bread in his ale. Relen glanced over at Miara, who was shifting uncomfortably in her chair. The old man had helped them out, but Relen could see from the look on her face that she thought the same as him: that it was time to make a hasty thank you and goodbye to this 'Rumaril'. Clearing his throat, Relen spoke,

"Thank you for your help Imperial, if there is anything we can do to repay you, then we shall try. As for us, we had best continue on our travels."

Rumaril placed down his tankard and stared an icy look at Relen,

"Well you can start by not calling me an Imperial, I'm a damned Nord. Skyrim born and bred thank you very much. Or let me guess, us humans all look the same to you elves!" he spat. Relen again glanced at Miara, who too seemed to think that angering this Nord was a bad idea.

"My apologies Rumaril. My offer of compensation still stands, if we could make a move soon," he said. Rumaril stood and paced to a shelf, where he retrieved a rather dusty book.

"Oh no, you cannot leave tonight. It is the middle of the night and you have barely rested, those bandits are after two killers now anyway, you wouldn't get far," the Nord said disinterestedly, turning the pages of his book.

"There are beds in the adjacent room, I suggest you go and get some sleep so you can leave when you're better. Your gear is in there as well, locked away safe," he continued.

Relen and Miara nodded to each other and took their leave to their beds. Relen was too weak to protest and he sensed that Rumaril was not a man to get on the wrong side of.

Once they were alone again, Relen sat on the bed and pondered their predicament.

"We can't stay here," Miara stated in a whisper.  
>"I agree. That Rumaril character is a bit crazy, living out this far from civilization, in this wooden shack," Relen replied, sighing.<p>

"Maybe he's a hermit of some kind," Miara suggested.

"Eh, he certainly lives that way. But he managed to save us from that mage and get both of our unconscious bodies here, he's got to be more than a slightly deranged old Nord."

"And he hasn't been robbed or attacked by those bandits around these parts... didn't he say their camp was nearby." Miara said, worried, "He'll probably slit our throats in the night."

Relen looked over to a large chest where their gear was presumably locked away in,

"Do you have a lock pick on you?" Relen asked. Miara nodded and pulled out a small pick from her pocket,

"Where would I be without carrying one of those around with me," she said, cracking a smile.

"We'll wait a few hours, then set off into the night with our stuff. Leave quiet so we don't wake the old man up," Relen explained. Miara agreed and laid down in her bed, blowing out the candle.

"Just give the word," she said, resting her head on the pillow and taking in the darkness.

The night was cold, and the wooden shack they were laying in didn't do much to keep them warm. They could hear the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocky banks of all the islands. Relen wondered whether Rumaril's shack was far from where their original route was, or if it was on the same island. Either way, he was sure that they could find their way back and another wooden bridge to the next rock. Yes, he thought. They'd be ok.


	10. Chapter 10

The skies howled and the winds lashed against Lucan, an Imperial a long way from home, travelling with an Orc who was even further.

"I don't see how these Dark Elves can stand it, honestly," Azuk moaned. Lucan murmured in agreement with his companion.

"It's just rocks, stormy seas and dead plants," He continued, gesturing to the inhospitable landscape in front of them. "Then when you think you're away from this wretched coast, you go inland and see a fiery volcano spewing ash, blight and Malacath knows what else."

Lucan sighed and stood up from the piece of wreckage he had been examining. The journey here to where the Imperial Agents had found the scuttled ship had certainly been a long one, made slightly more unbearable thanks to Lucan's travelling companion. The Orc mage Azuk was overly talkative and loud at the best of times.

"So this is the ship," Lucan said, his hand waving across the ruined remains of an Imperial prison ship, now mostly debris littering the shore of a particularly jagged and harsh area of coast.

"Looks like it couldn't handle the seas, this is an easy place to wreck in," Azuk offered. But Lucan shook his head,

"No, no... this ship was supposed to dock at Ebonheart after it arrived at Seyda Neen. The tides aren't strong enough between those two places to knock the ship this far off course, it has to be intentional. Would Jiub have been able to get assistance from the outside, or work with someone on the ship to aid his escape?" He asked. Azuk scowled,

"Definitely not, he would not murder any guards to abet his escape, plus he wouldn't have the contacts to plan help from pirates or any of that nonsense, he's been stuck in a cell for months, how could he plan his own escape?"

Lucan sighed once more, he too was beginning to doubt that Jiub could have planned his own escape. Although had earlier suspected the Guard who had came ashore in Seyda Neen of working with Jiub, the scuttled ship and missing crew just didn't add up for that theory either. The remaining option was something that Lucan, and no doubt his superiors, would not want to be the reality of what happened here.

"So it looks like you may have been correct in the tavern Azuk," Lucan said, turning to the Orc.

"Hmm, I expected as much. Looks like your 'loyal' crew here got greedy and are planning something with my friend," He muttered angrily in reply.

"It seems that way," Lucan said quietly. Azuk glanced at the Imperial with narrowed eyes and Lucan shifted uncomfortably, Orc tempers were notoriously short he noted.

"Sir! Sir!" Came a cry, as Lucan turned from the wreckage. One of the Imperial soldiers who had escorted Lucan and Azuk here had come running up to him from his post.

"What is it?" Lucan queried.

"Lannis' search party have found a survivor from the wreckage a few miles up the coast." He explained. Lucan turned to Azuk, who had a determined glint in his eyes.

"Let's go."

Continuing up the coast, Lucan and Azuk arrived on a distant stretch of sand to see Lannis and his men standing around a man, slumped on the ground against a rock.

"Lannis, report," Commanded Lucan.

The Imperial Guard turned to Lucan,

"Sir, he appears to be a crewmember from the prison vessel. He won't talk to us though, he's in pain."

Lucan approached the crewmember, who was clutching at his waist with his arm, using all his remaining strength.

"Tell us what you know," demanded Lucan.

The man grunted and moved his arm, revealing a gaping cut across his side, festering and blood soaked.

"I said, tell us what -" But Lucan was cut off by Azuk,

"Out the way, let me use a healing spell to ease his pain," Azuk said, raising his hands. Before he could begin casting, Lucan pushed Azuk's hands down and drew his dagger. Turning back to the crewmember, he looked him in the eye and asked again,

"What happened on the ship. Where is your prisoner?" The man's silence was his response, aside from a few murmurs of pain from his wound. Lucan felt his head pound, and before he knew what was happening, he gently slid his dagger into the man's open cut, slowly twisting the blade against the injury.

The man screamed in pain, desperately kicking against Lucan and grabbing at his arms, pleading him to stop.

"What are you doing Imperial?!" Roared Azuk, who turned to Lannis and the other Guards, expecting a response. They simply turned away, not willing to interfere with their superior. Azuk pulled Lucan's hand away from the dagger, which fell to the ground.

"What has possessed you?" Azuk asked angrily, but before Lucan could reply, the man spoke,

"The buyer... he wasn't here to _buy_," coughed the man "They took the blasted prisoner..." his voiced trailed off and his eyes began to shut.

"Who took him?" Demanded Lucan violently, "And where?" The man looked into Lucan's eyes and answered,

"The Dark Elf mage... and his... creatures," he moaned miserably, before slumping even further as his eyes rolled back into his head. His hand fell to his side and finally, his breath stopped.

"He's dead," Stated Lucan, retrieving the dagger and sheathing it once more.

Azuk stood, towering over Lucan, his eyes aflame with rage,

"You tortured this man, in his dying moments. We should have eased his pain!"

Lucan stood also, he hid his shaking hand by his side,

"He was dead no matter what we did. I had to get some information from him."

Azuk looked disappointed more than anything,

"And this is how the Empire gets things done? Through brutality and violence?"

Lucan didn't answer, he merely left the body and began speaking to Lannis.

Azuk approached the water's edge. They had figured out the mystery of the crew, but it felt like taking one step forwards and two steps back. He worried about Jiub, but took some solace in learning that he was possibly alive... at least for now. One thing was for certain, he didn't trust Lucan one bit. When they found Jiub, if they found him at all, Azuk was certainly not going to let Lucan get anywhere near him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter XI**

"You know, I pity one such as you," called out a voice from the surrounding darkness.

"You left these lands which you claimed to be your home and spent your time in Cyrodiil of all places, whilst the very Imperials you lived amongst were sending their armies East, to take what is ours, what is Dunmer," The man continued. Jiub writhed in his seat, but to no surprise found himself tied down once more.

The voice with no face leaned in closer, towards the torch behind where Jiub was sat, so that he became illuminated by light. As expected by his rant, he was a Dunmer. Red eyes looked into Jiub from a round face, before a hand clad in glass gauntlets grasped out at him, grabbing him by the throat.

"The one thing I hate more than an Imperial," He said, clenching hard, "Is a traitorous Dunmer." With this he slowly released his grip and shuffled back into the shadows.

"First the Imperials take me prisoner... then the crew makes me their play-thing, and now you take me from them by force," Jiub spoke out, staring into darkness.

"...I would love to know why," he asked firmly.

The man chuckled and a burst of flame shot out of the darkness, quietly lighting the room before darting left and right, igniting two more torch's mounted in sconces on the wall.

"Jiub: the wrong Dunmer in the wrong place. How has it come to be that the scrolls chose you?" the man said.

"But no matter, your destiny will be for naught, once I convince you to work for me." Jiub almost cracked a smile,

"I have no interest in working for you, Telvanni," he said defiantly.

The man grimaced, almost impressed,

"Ah, what gave it away? My age? The artefacts I possess? Nevertheless, I don't intend to offer you a choice in this matter, some magic can be very persuasive, and once I break your will, my magic will make you serve me," He growled, moving inwards once more, both hands raised. Jiub struggled with all his strength to break free, as blue light engulfed him and he felt his mind begin to slip away.

The Telvanni roared as the energy flowed from his fingertips,

"Jiub, the one of prophecy. Destined to fulfil a role and aid in ending a blight. I see a much higher use for you in aiding me," came his words, snarling from his tongue.

"The Cliff Racers of these lands, the vermin which shriek and haunt our towns and trade routes. For now they spread the blight disease from the Red Mountain, tainted by Dagoth Ur's corpus. But his schemes will not last, for the prophecies are coming to a head, and you, Jiub, shall be on my side to tame them. The Cliff Racers shall serve me, Frathen Drothan of the Telvanni. With them at my side, the Imperials, the true blight on Morrowind, shall be defeated, and I shall remain."

Jiub was at a loss for words, but could not speak even if he wanted to, for the magic that wrapped around him was inside his head. It was telling him to do one thing then another, swirling mystical voices, hundreds of them, chanting in near unison. As the babble became clearer and more focused, as the light intensified, one message stood out: _submit to your new master_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter XII**

The wooden floorboards of the shack cracked and groaned to the slightest touch as Miara and Relen attempted to sneak away from their mysterious host, Rumaril. Relen appreciated his life being saved, but he could sense with ease that something was not right about the old man. Thus is felt to him that it made the most sense to simply leave right away.

He glanced ahead to Miara, who was already busy making short work of the lock on the chest, where Rumaril had stowed their equipment. With her usual speed and precision, the mechanism relented and the pair retrieved their things. Relen fastened a dagger to his side and gestured to Miara to follow him towards the door. His hand hovering over his blade, Relen grasped the handle and quietly pushed the door open. The main room was empty, bottles of ale lined the table where Rumaril had clearly stayed up after them, drinking. A mere few feet away was the door. The weather had settled and the night, aside from the sounds of the ocean, was still. It was now or never.

Relen locked his eyes on the door to Rumaril's room, he couldn't hear a sound. He waved Miara onwards and she crept towards the main door. Relen followed, eyes still watching, waiting to see if the old man would awaken.

"Go," Relen whispered hoarsely.

With this Miara shunted open the door and the pair made a hasty exit out into the cold night, softly closing the shack off behind them. Relen saw a trail leading from the shack, down the hill and closer to the shore, it was the only path unless they felt like making their way over some jagged rocks. The carried on forwards, glancing back every so often, but the shack remained quiet.

A short while later, as they reached the bottom of the trail and rejoined the path, they saw the bridge they had tried to cross up ahead. This time there were no bandits waiting on the other side. However, Relen and Miara's feet has barely found the wooden slats of the bridge when a booming voice shouted after them,

"I suppose this is farewell then Elves."

They turned around, hands ready to grasp at their steel, and saw Rumaril standing in his same dishevelled robe atop a hill. His silhouette barely breaking the blackened skies.

"Just know that for what awaits you, you had better be well rested," he commanded.

Relen and Miara exchanged glances and stood their ground, as Rumaril turned and made his way back to his shack.

"What did he mean by that?" Miara asked, worried.

"Bah, the old man's insane. Best leave him to his rocks and his waves," Relen grunted.

The pair continued onwards into uncertain darkness. They had barely begun but had already been beset by problems. Relen wondered how much further the Blades were ahead, or if they had faced similar problems even traversing this region. He reminded himself of the pay awaiting him for the job and put his doubts to rest.

As the stars fell across the sky and the incessant smashing of waves relented, the pair gradually made better progress, making their way over one island and desolate rock after the other. As the hours wore on, dawn began to break. With the sun giving them light, they clambered up a particularly high hill to survey how much further left they had to go.

At the peak, countless islands stretched out before them. But Relen, checking his map, determined that their marker was only another two islands ahead. As he scanned the view to find their destination, he spied a pillar of smoke breaking into the sky from a large campfire. Four or so tents were placed around it and what appeared to be a metal cage was located a few metres away. Miara had seen it too,

"So that's the place?" She asked.

"It is. Looks like whoever was holding our target here is still around," Relen replied.

"Either that or the Blades beat us to it and that's their camp..." Miara noted.

Relen sighed, "It's never easy, is it?"

The two made their way back down the hill and towards their target, it only took a short amount of time before they were close and, on a nearby ridge, they crouched down to get a lay of the camp. Much to Relen's dismay, what they saw did not inspire confidence. He saw an Orc, sat on a rock by himself, furiously reading some kind of scroll. Near to the campfire two Imperial Guardsmen were sat, eating. Another Imperial, not dressed in armor was pacing in front of a tent, he had a dagger at his side. Two more Guardsmen stood watch at the entrance to the camp, which was located in a small valley of sorts, bordered by rocks on two sides and the ocean on another.

"I see no Dunmer here and the cage is empty, the door is open," Relen remarked.

"Looks like we were beaten to it, but it seems they've had no luck finding this Dunmer here either," Miara said.

"This is good," Relen said, resting against a rock and removing his pack. Miara turned, exasperated,

"Good! How is this good? The job keeps getting more complex by the minute and now these Outlanders are in our way."

Relen smiled a reassuring smile at Miara, the kind she had not seen in a long time,

"And now they can lead us to the target, we'll let them do all the legwork."

Miara pondered for a moment before sitting opposite Relen.

"I suppose you're right. If they can get us close to the target then all we have to do is line up a shot with the crossbow. We'll be out of there before his body hits the ground."

Relen produced a small vial from his pack,

"And we'll coat the bolt in this for good measure, just to make sure he doesn't shrug it off in a hurry."

Miara grinned. She didn't say it but she knew Relen was feeling the same thing: they were relishing this job. It was just like old times.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter XIII**

Lucan and Lannis stood before a gaping gorge, which ran about twelve or more feet into the ground. At the bottom, several corpses were piled on top of one another. The Imperial armor and sailor's clothing still donned on them.

"Our attacker certainly wasn't interested in hiding the bodies _that _well," Lannis noted, turning to Lucan awaiting his response.

"Clearly not. This Dark Elf mage our witness reported seeing must have some major problem with the Empire. All these bodies, left near enough in plain sight. It's almost like a message to whoever found them," he replied. Lannis shifted uncomfortably,

"These men... they were traitors. They abandoned their posts to kidnap a prisoner due for release... but even then, I can't but feel..." his voice trailed off. Lucan put his hand firmly on Lannis' shoulder,

"These men were indeed traitors. But our buyer must have been in contact with the mutineers beforehand to be able to orchestrate this."

Lucan gestured towards the corpses,

"Their crime is getting greedy. This mage is our real target in all of this." With this Lannis nodded and turned back to the campsite. Lucan remained for a few moments, staring down at the death below him as dawn's light hit his body. He whispered a quick prayer to the divine and left.

In the camp, the other guards and Azuk were dismantling their temporary site and extinguishing the fire. When Lucan returned, his ordered them to assemble. Azuk hung back, still furious at the events of the day before, but relented and joined the others.

"We've found the bodies of the rest of the crew. That is, almost the rest of the crew. A few are missing that were on the duty log for this vessel's mission. Namely the captain and three others," Lucan explained. Azuk grunted in reply,

"Maybe they were taken along with Jiub by this Dunmer mage?"

Lucan nodded,

"Either that or the Captain and a few of his loyal men were victims of the mutiny and their bodies are dumped out at sea. Either way, we must track down the mage. His crimes against the Empire are numerous," Lucan said sternly as Azuk gazed at him with cold eyes, "and it still remains of vital importance that Jiub is rescued safely," Lucan added. Azuk grunted and walked off.

As the men continued packing, Lucan approached Azuk.

"I know you're angry at me Azuk but -" he was cut off,

"You made a man suffer in his dying moments yesterday!" Fumed Azuk in reply, "You could have gotten the same information if we had eased his pain!" Lucan sighed,

"I got information, I had to take drastic action. The mission is clear: rescue Jiub at any cost. I did this for him and for you."

"Well, it's not how he would have wanted you to go about it," Azuk said bitterly.

"In case you haven't noticed Orc, I have never met your friend. I still don't see why he is so important to the Empire and I have no idea how we would want me to act. Whilst I am in charge of this mission, we get things done my way!" Lucan shouted, storming off, leaving Azuk alone, who merely shook his head in disappointment.

"Sir!" Lannis shouted over to Lucan, who walked over to his subordinate, "I've been studying this map, the only two routes into and out of this island are the one we took, or another way leading north into Telvanni territory. This attack was recent and we would have seen something if they left the way we arrived, so they must have gone north," he finished. Lucan nodded grimly,

"Telvanni... their kind certainly breed powerful mages. But as much as the Empire is supposed to control Morrowind, they will not cooperate with us easily. We'll head north and see if we can pick up a trail, prepare to move," Lucan ordered. Lannis nodded and folded up the map.

"Oh and Lannis... good work," Lucan said as he turned his back.

It certainly felt strange having people to command, but Lucan was enjoying being the one giving orders for once. He usually worked alone, or alongside another Blade member or, as had most often been the case, as someone's junior. He wasn't stupid though, he knew that manpower was limited for the Blades on Vvardenfell, and that was more likely the reason why he was leading this mission. He wondered whether his time would be better served aiding in the Blades mysterious main assignment involving the first prisoner in Seyda Neen. Nevertheless, Lucan cleared these scrambled thoughts and focused once again.

The group of six made their way north, across countless more islands. Thankfully, the northern trip was a much shorter route to the mainland and, around four hours after they had set out, they were on much firmer ground. As the group marched onwards, a giant head came into view. It broke the skyline and emerged, towering over the cliffs and the mountains. In one hand the statue held a star. In the other, a moon.

"The Queen of Dawn and Dusk," Azuk piped up, pointing towards the statue as the group turned to listen, "It is said the is the one morally good Daedric Prince."

"How can it be a she if she's a... prince?" Asked one of the guards.

"Her gender is simply an appearance. Daedric princes are more forces of energy and manifestation of power, rather than anything else. 'Daedric Prince' is a title. They represent far more," Azuk explained gently. Lucan dismissed this notion,  
>"The Daedric are evil. Even this Azura I am sure. No one who is good worships a Daedric Prince."<p>

"It is said the Azura takes a keen interest in the affairs of mortals Lucan, she could be listening to us now. She sets events into motion and guides travellers to an end," Azuk replied calmly.

"Whose end? A morally good end? Or her own ends?" Lucan questioned doubtfully.

"We can never be sure. Jiub spoke of Azura often. I believe he found comfort in her guiding hand."

The group stared up at the monument and they followed the path. Despite his reservations about the morality of this particular Daedric Prince, Lucan was still impressed by the sheer scale of the thing.

Azura's knowing gaze followed the group as they journeyed onwards. The affairs of mortals could indeed be petty and irrelevant. But certain events, however small, could lead to a far greater impact days, weeks - even years later. Her hand guided and occasionally nudged those who needed it in the right direction. Prisoners, heroes and all in-between stood the possibility of unwittingly, or even knowingly receiving her help.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter XIV**

_Wake up, we're here. Why are you shaking? Are you ok? Wake up._

An indistinguishable figure stirred from the floor of the ship.

_Stand up... there you go. You were dreaming. What's your name?_

The replied seemed unimportant now. If there was a reply at all. Everything was muffled.

_Well, not even last night's storm could wake you. I heard them say we've reached Morrowind, I'm sure they'll let us go._

Ever the optimist, freedom seemed so far away now. This recollection of a conversation so... normal, it didn't feel right.

_Quiet, here comes the guard._

He had heard before his fellow prisoner had. But what had he heard? Footsteps maybe... a voice? A guard appeared, as if summoned by his command. The figure lingered.

_You'd better do what they say._

Yes, you had better do what they say.

What had happened to that prisoner? It was almost inconceivably trivial, but he wanted an answer. Most likely the prisoner was doing better than he was right now. Or he was dead. Who could tell.

"You had better do what I say Jiub," raged the voice of his captor. Jiub's eyes flittered open as consciousness made a priority. Still bound to a chair, his tormentor, his kidnapper stood over him,

"It's been a long time now Jiub, I grow impatient... if you don't adapt, then you will die. Isn't it better to live at my side, under my command?"

Jiub couldn't feel the pain in his body. He was sure it was still there, maybe he was adapting after all.

"I'm sure they'll let us go," he croaked. Frathen Drothan laughed,

"You're delirious. You have no idea of your potential. Of your destiny..."

The voice carried on speaking, but Jiub did not hear it. He was back on the ship, the prisoner was waking up. Jiub spoke out to him,

"Stand up... there you go. You were dreaming. What's your name?"


End file.
